


Taking Care of Business

by MonPetitTresor



Series: Changing the Past [3]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Azazel - Freeform, BAMF Sam, Hunting, Other demons - Freeform, The Colt - Freeform
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-24
Updated: 2016-09-24
Packaged: 2018-08-17 01:52:55
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8125844
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MonPetitTresor/pseuds/MonPetitTresor
Summary: When Bobby goes outside one morning, he doesn't expect to find the present someone left for him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> I tried and tried to write this story from Sam's POV, showing the whole thing with the Colt and Azazel, and I just couldn't. I kept getting stuck and failing at it. But this? I wrote this in one sitting this morning. SO, here it is. Now that this is out there I can finally start to move on a little to some of the more fun stories to write :D

Sleeping in was a rare luxury for Bobby Singer. Often there was some crisis or another that meant that he was up way too early, usually after having gone to bed far too late. There were plenty of hunters in the community that knew that Bobby was a safe place to call when they needed help finding something in the lore that they couldn’t find on their own, or if they needed someone to play the part of supervisor when the locals weren't quite buying the Fed line, or many other reasons.

Bobby was gruff, took no shit off of anyone, and had fought with or threatened quite a few of the people he helped, but they all knew he was also smart and loyal. He wouldn't leave someone out on their own if they made a mistake and got in over there head. He'd either send help or sometimes even come himself - cursing them and telling them what an 'idjit' they were the whole time, of course.

There were very few people he'd ever come close to flat out refusing to help. John Winchester happened to be one of those. He also happened to be the reason that Bobby actually decided to take the time and sleep in today.

The idjit had gone off on a hunt - alone, like the dumbass he was - and gotten himself knee deep in trouble with a pack of werewolves. It hadn't been John who'd called for him, of course. The stubborn ass wouldn't swallow his pride enough to do it. Not after the last time they'd seen one another. That time, John had stopped by and told Bobby about what happened with the kids, about how he'd basically cut his daughter off just because she'd wanted to get an education. They'd shouted and fought and the whole thing had ended with Bobby threatening to pump John full of buckshot if he didn't get off his damn property.

So naturally, John wasn't the one to call him for help, and Bobby almost refused on principal when Pastor Jim called and said that John was deep in shit and Bobby was the closest to him, so could he please go help, please?

Nothing pissed Bobby off more than the way John had raised his kids. He'd deprived Dean and Samantha both of any sort of proper childhood. The road was no place for a kid to grow up. And with John constantly hunting, it all fell to Dean to be not just brother but parent as well. He'd raised Sam as surely as if she were really his own daughter. Hell, Bobby remembered how hard they'd had to fight when he'd first met the kids, and Sam was just learning how to talk, because 'De' and 'Da' sounded a lot alike and she often called Dean 'Da', which upset John to no end.

The kids were two of the best that Bobby had ever known. He loved them like they were his own. It was for their sake that he'd gone to help John. They'd be heartbroken if they heard something happened to the man.

So, against his better judgment, Bobby had gone out there and helped out the man, taken out the pack, and then wasted no time in turning around and coming right back home. Let John enjoy his crappy, run-down motel rooms. Bobby wanted the comfort of home, especially after taking out a whole damn pack. A man deserved to take it easy then.

That was why he'd slept in this morning and why he was taking his time now to slowly get up and grab a shower before making his way out to the kitchen to get a pot of coffee going.

He gave his dog an absent pat on the head as he went past. “Just a second, boy.”

Once he had a cup of coffee brewed, he poured himself a cup, whistled to get Rumsfeld’s attention, and then the two were heading out towards the front porch.

Bobby propped himself up against the railing on his porch and looked absently around him while Rumsfeld ran around the yard. It was quiet and peaceful, the sun just barely up and no real sound except for Rumsfeld sniffing and scratching around. Bobby was content to just stand there and slowly wake up as he drank his coffee.

So of course something had to happen to disturb it.

His first hint that something was wrong came when Rumsfeld started barking nearby. Not the bark that said he'd found some rabbit to chase or something like that. No, this was deeper, a bit more on edge. The kind of bark that he let out when something or someone was on the property. He was a good guard dog - there was a reason Bobby had gotten him.

A quick reach inside got Bobby his shotgun. With it in hand, he set off towards the sounds of his dog's barking, body automatically slipping down into the cautious pose that he used on a hunt. Alert, ready to move, ready to run or attack depending on what he found.

He needn't have bothered. When he got near the car where Rumsfeld was barking, a quick peek showed him that it wasn't a person or creature there causing trouble that had set his dog off - it was the body lying on the ground.

Still, Bobby had been on too many hunts not to be cautious. He wasn't an idiot. He knew the chances of this being a trap.

Gun in hand he cautiously approached the body. It was an adult, he saw as he got close. Male. Forties, maybe? And he had a single gunshot wound dead center on his forehead.

Okay, so, dead body then. Still could be a trap.

Bobby cautiously bent down next to the body, shotgun still ready. He looked to Rumsfeld, who wasn't even making noise anymore, was just sitting there watching them. If the dog wasn't worried there probably wasn't a reason for Bobby to be worried either. Dogs sensed a whole lot more than humans gave them credit for. “What is this, Rums?” He mumbled.

When Bobby looked back at the body, he started a quick search, trying to find anything that might clue him in as to who this was and why they'd been dumped there.

To his surprise, he actually found something. A piece of paper was folded up and tucked just slightly under the edge of the jacket to keep it from being blown away. Bobby laid the shotgun across his knees and pulled the paper out. He unfolded it and let his eyes run over the single line of words written there in a rather elegant looking scrawl.

_Tell John that Yellow Eyes isn't a problem anymore_

The instant he read them, Bobby's eyes went wide. His gaze shot back to the body and he stared down at it.

With one hand, he reached out to the man's face and used a single finger to pull back an eyelid. What he found there had him sucking in a sharp breath.

“Balls!” Bobby's eyes were wide as he stared down at the body below him with new interest. What the hell was going on? The yellow irises he’d found made it seem pretty likely that this was who they thought it was. There were tests that he could do, though. Things to prove that this body had really housed a demon in it. One as powerful as the Yellow-Eyed demon was going to leave behind traces that Bobby could test for. Things that he _would_ test for before he even thought about calling up John. There was no way he was going to give that man false hope. Asshole or not, that wasn’t a line Bobby was willing to cross.

With one last sigh, Bobby pushed himself up to his feet. “C’mon, Rums.” He patted his leg and the dog came trotting over to him. “Let’s go put the gun away an get some supplies. We got work to do.”

As soon as he was sure, he’d call John, let him know the bastard that killed his Mary was gone.

Then, maybe, they’d turn their focus to finding out who the hell had done this – and how. And what it was they were going to want. Nothing ever happened for free. What was the price going to be for this? Bobby wasn’t quite sure he wanted to find out.

* * *

Miles and miles away, in the front seat of a stolen nondescript Ford Taurus, Sam Winchester smiled softly to herself. She snuck a glance down at the Colt, the butt of which was sticking ever so slightly out of the inside of her jacket. It hadn’t been easy getting the gun from Elkins. It’d taken work to even remember his name let alone where he lived. Then there had been the matter of breaking into the home of a hunter and actually _stealing_ the gun. Hunters were, by nature, paranoid bastards. But Sam had learned from the best. Dean had taught her well. In the end, she’d walked away with the gun.

And a little something extra.

The rattling in her trunk turned her small smile into a grin. Fetching the gun had caught the attention of some people and Sam had capitalized on that. Trapping demons in the trunk wasn’t exactly something she was a stranger to. And, well, this demon was a bit special. In Sam’s timeline she’d started out a bit bad, but she’d come through for them in the end in quite a few ways. Maybe this time around, Sam could return that favor. After all, if there was one thing the Trials had taught them, it was that killing demons wasn’t always necessary. Sometimes, you could _save_ them.

She’d kept the demon locked in her trunk while dealing with Azazel. Now, it was time to go and deal with her.

It was time to head to the Bunker. It was time to head _home_.

**Author's Note:**

> Remember, reviews are golden!


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